


Fucked by Fear: The Desolation

by comic_books_and_bars, Ptarantula



Series: Fucked by Fear [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: AU Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Asphyxiation, Burn Wounds, Canon Asexual Character, Choking, Crying, Dead Dove: Do No Eat, Do Not Archive, Double Penetration, Gangbang, Graphic Sexual Assault, Gynecologist Chair, Hospitalization, Humiliation, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Break, Misgendering, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Rough Sex, Season 4 Finale Spoilers, Threats of Violence, Trans Character, Transgender Author, Unrepentant Filth, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wax Play, asexual author, female terminology for transmale genitalia, gangrape, holy fuck this is long, inappropriate caretaking, it’s mostly porn we promise, over ambitious gangbang, roleplay turned fic, too many boys with names, trans!Jon, we’re never writing a gangbang ever again, wtf did we write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comic_books_and_bars/pseuds/comic_books_and_bars, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ptarantula/pseuds/Ptarantula
Summary: After meeting with Jude Perry, Jon gets kidnapped by the Desolation and it only goes downhill from there.***Jon gave a strangled whine in protest before descending into a small coughing fit. His body ached with thirst, and something else he didn’t want to think about. Stupid body, stupid fear responses.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/OMC
Series: Fucked by Fear [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678831
Comments: 16
Kudos: 123





	Fucked by Fear: The Desolation

**Author's Note:**

> Weird shit happens when your spouse walks in and says “What if all the fears marked Jon up in a gangbang?” and you say, “What if they each had their own gandbang?”
> 
> Yes: it’s fucked up, Yes: we knew that going into it, and Yes: we will be writing more.  
> However! NO: there will be NO MORE gangbangs, this one got out of hand
> 
> We’re so sorry...

Jonah Magnus, despite his intellect and patience, wasn’t a stranger to worry. His archivist had survived the corruption just fine, and now he couldn’t deny that his plan was coming to the point where he didn’t like to leave so much up to chance. Like it or not, he was fully invested in Jon becoming the eldritch horror he knew he could be.

While his initial strategy had been to toss him into the maw of whatever fear deity presented itself, he now wondered absently if there was a better way. Maybe a safer or faster one.

Quite unbidden came the suggestion: maybe a more entertaining one?

This wasn’t the first time his host’s mind had made itself known underneath the smothering effect of Jonah’s occupation - but it was certainly the most useful suggestion he’d ever had from the lump of neurons behind his eyes.

He explored the idea. It was far, far more lurid than anything Jonah himself would have thought up, but it was a neat and tidy solution - giving some avatars a focus that wasn’t murder would help ensure Jon’s survival and eventual usefulness. It would certainly leave marks just fine.

He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them, grinning so wide that the corners of his stolen lips stung.

This really would be more entertaining.

———

Jude Perry’s expression was tight when she told Jon to shake her hand. He didn’t necessarily trust her when she said that it wouldn’t hurt, but he’d needed a lead.

The skin on his right palm instantly sizzled.

Jon’s head was reeling too much from the pain to register that he was being dragged into a van. He had the misguided hope that he was being taken for medical attention.

“I... doctor...” was all he managed before he passed out.

———

Some time later Jon came to with a startled gasp. He was still, obviously, in pain and more than a little disoriented. 

His mind scrabbled for anything to clue him in on his current situation. His throat was dry and his limbs seemed impossibly heavy. His blurry vision quickly resolved itself. If he were honest, he really wished it hadn’t.

He found himself in a large concrete room - some sort of workshop. There was an intense heat off to his left and a quick glance out of the corner of his eye revealed it to be a massive hotbox. Work benches were arranged near the kiln where various metal tools had been laid out. It must be a glassblowing or metalworking space, he reasoned.

This was all at once confusing and concerning as he also seemed to be strapped to a chair of some medical surplus variety. Why it would be in a workshop was beyond him. 

Unless he wasn’t in a workshop, and his captors planned on putting  _ him _ in the kiln…

Terror bubbled up inside him as he tried more feverishly to get free. He began to sweat. He couldn’t see anyone in the room with him. But he also couldn’t see behind him. Anyone could be in his blindspot.

The fabric of his dress shirt was soaked through after a few futile minutes of struggle. He had to take a moment to breathe, the physical effort making his shortness of breath even more apparent. He felt as though he might suffocate from the heat if he didn’t escape soon.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, cycling between struggling and resting. 

It could have been hours or it could have been minutes. At one point he had tried to call out for help only to receive no response. His voice was weak and strained. After another few minutes and pathetic attempts to swallow enough saliva to wet his vocal chords he tried again, louder this time. 

“Hello?! Hel-” His voice cracked and he descended into a small coughing fit. He was beginning to think that he truly was alone. That whoever captured him was going to leave him here to die.

A sound did echo around from behind Jon, but it was the rusty hinge of a heavy door followed shortly by rough, cruel laughter.

The voice was familiar: Jude.

Jon’s stomach sank and his chest tightened in completely understandable fear. His breaths were laboured as he tried to calm his nerves. No matter what they had in store for him, panicking wouldn’t help.

There were the sounds of others following after her.

“Do you really think anyone’s coming to save you, Archivist?” 

Jude whipped around the chair with a vicious smile and the six or so men behind her laughed.

Jon leveled her with an unimpressed, flat stare. When he opened his mouth to give a scathing comment all that came out was a breathy whisper. He promptly closed his mouth and let out an annoyed ‘chuff’ through his nose.

The largest in the group rounded the chair to get a better look at him. 

“‘s a tiny little thing. Fink we might end up splittin’ ‘im in two,” his strong chav accent and grated on Jon’s nerves. He was almost certain it was put on.

Jude grinned, “be my guest. This is our revenge on these eye fuckers, isn’t it?”

A rallying call rumbled through the group, but didn’t make their intentions any clearer to Jon.

Jude sat back on a wooden bench, legs crossed grandly, “You’re not my cuppa, Archivist. But I’ll watch. I want to hear him scream proper. Someone get the little lamb some water.”

One of the group, a blonde man of average build, shuffled back out.

The others didn’t seem willing to wait for him to return and surrounded Jon, eyes raking over his slim frame. No one made a move to touch him yet, likely unsure who should start what Jon could only imagine to be interrogation and torture.

Jude huffed impatiently, hopping up and grabbing a dangerous-looking pair of shears from near the kiln. She elbowed her way into the group.

“You look so hot, Archivist,” she patted his cheek with the too-hot metal. “Let’s get you more comfortable.”

Jon jerked as the metal touched his face and pain blossomed there.

She slid the shears up his arms, tearing the shirt apart. The room erupted into whistles and whoops that were positively manic in tone.

He didn’t understand. They could torture him just fine with his clothing intact, unless they planned on skinning him... but that didn’t sound right for the Desolation... branding him maybe?

The first man who had spoken took this opportunity to lay his hands across Jon’s exposed flesh. 

“Looks like somesuch’s already marked ‘im up good. ‘Es all speckled.”

Jon thrashed against the touch, panic rising as all the parts fell into place. They were... no...

“Stop!” he rasped as he tried to avoid the touch by pressing further into the chair.

Jude tsk’d at him, waving the huge shears back and forth with the air of scolding a child.

“If you don’t sit still, I might just cut that pretty skin of yours.”

She slipped the shears up his pant leg next, tearing away the fabric like it was nothing.

“Sure is scrawny. Poor little thing,” a taller man said, unkindly, while tracing his hip bone.

The man touching his chest continued to connect the dots, moving ever closer to his nipples but never fully touching them. Involuntarily, Jon tried to squeeze his legs together.

One of the men, a taller fellow with dark hair and softer hands, stroked down Jon’s belly to where he was squeezing his thighs tightly closed. He slotted his hand in the gap still left where the inner thighs stubbornly refused to meet.

“So slim,” the tall man sighed.

“It’s like nobody’s taking care of ‘im. Them academic types need keepers, ya know? Like cats, they are,” the large guy said, conversationally, as his rough fingers teased Jon’s nipples.

The tall one suddenly ripped away the shreds of Jon’s pants and trousers.

Jon gave a strangled whine in protest before descending into a small coughing fit. His body ached with thirst, and something else he didn’t want to think about. Stupid body, stupid fear responses.

Jude huffed and tossed the shears over her shoulder. They clattered to the floor as she paced to the door, “where’s Felix with that water? Our guest is thirsty!”

The way she said thirsty left no doubt as to the double meaning.

As if on cue, Felix returned with a bucket of water and a rag. He pushed through the group to settle beside Jon.

He dunked the rag into the water. Lifting it, dripping, he pressed it to Jon’s chapped lips. 

“Open up, Archivist.”

The cool water dripping down Jon’s torso was tempting enough to have him opening eagerly for the rag. He sucked it slowly.

The man who stripped him whistled again, “oh, and ain’t he just full of surprises? Look at the pretty little cunt on this one.”

He forced Jon’s thighs apart for all to see, and Jon was forced back to his senses.

“Wh- stop!” His voice was hoarse but louder now.

The others, now intrigued, gathered around to gawk at the unexpected genitalia.

“Wait, he’s a she?” the largest gaped in half shock, half awe..

Another swatted him in the back of the head, “he’s a he, innit he, Jude?”

Jude shrugged and returned to her perch, “seems that way to me.”

The large one prodded Jon’s labia apart, “dunno. Never seen a bloke with a cunt before.”

The tall man glared at his compatriots, “you haven’t seen much, then.”

“Some blokes got cunts,” a tattooed man stated. “It’s called variety.”

Jon squirmed, trying to escape in earnest.

“I said stop!” His voice cracked when he tried to be louder.

Felix dutifully offered him more water, which he was too distressed to take. A man with rough, short fingers gripped Jon’s jaw and forced his mouth open.

“Drink. Now.”

The tall man stroked between Jon’s labia, finding his stiffening clit and petting it in small circles. He continued their conversation as if Jon had said nothing at all.

“This bloke’s got a nice one, either way.”

The annoying man who’d misgendered Jon just shook his head and peered at the spot between their captive’s spread legs, “‘s a nice one - guess I prefer cunt over cock anyway.”

To Jon’s utter disgust, his mouth opened willingly enough, tongue poking out just past his bottom lip. This allowed Felix to squeeze water from the rag into his mouth. Some of it rolled down his chin when he tried to swallow it all only to choke a bit when the tall, darker haired one began to stroke him.

Jon was blessed with low estrogen and higher testosterone even before he started HRT, which caused his growth in that area to be a rather substantial two inches when erect.

The tall man stroked his long fingers on either side of Jon’s stiff little prick before squeezing and pumping it without much care.

The man playing with Jon’s chest finally released his, by now, very sore nipples. Rounding to stand at Jon’s side, he bent his head to capture one poor abused nipple and licked teasingly. Jon didn’t have much of a chest and almost all of one tit fit between the man’s rough lips.

The man watching between Jon’s legs intently had a mustache and Jon vengfully decided that that was his name now. He needed some way or another to keep track of them all.

Felix, mercifully, stopped squeezing water into his mouth before Mustache stroked a finger against Jon’s cunt, just rubbing the slick there and not penetrating him. Yet.

“Sure did get wet fast, didn’t he?”

Jon let loose another strangled whine and clenched his kegel muscles tight, in hopes of deterring further exploration. This really only had the effect of pushing more slick down his thighs.

“Awe fuck, lads. Don’t that make a pretty picture. It’s almost like he d’nae want us there” said the last man. He had a thick Scottish accent that earned him the nickname Scott. Jon was distressed to note that he had taken to rubbing himself through his jeans.

“Shame, nae got a choice in the matter”

A general laugh ran through the group at that. Mustache pulled his fingers back and stretched a string of slick between them before sucking them into his mouth.

“Sure does send mixed signals, doesn’t he?”

The tall one gave Jon’s cock a little swat before he reached down to prod at the tight, slick hole. Even if Jon tensed, it was hard to keep him from sliding a long, slim finger into him.

Stretch would work for that one, though Jon hated the double meaning. He didn’t have the faculties to come up with anything better.

The sensation wasn’t wholly unpleasant, which was pretty unpleasant in and of itself. Jon bit his lip to stay silent. His traitorous body aside, he would not moan and whimper for them.

Scott was the first to strip out of his trousers, standing in naught but his shirt and boots.

“D’nae prep him too much, Jude wants screaming remember.”

With a loud pop the man on Jon’s tits pulled away from sucking. 

“We got all day, plenty time to wreck him proper.”

“How’re we deciding who goes first?” Stretch asked, then eyed Scott. “If it’s Declan, I guess he won’t need too much prep, yeah?”

Jon absently refiled Scott as Declan amid increasing panic.

A scandalized whoop made its way around the room, but Jude sighed.

“I don’t care whose first, but I am getting bored,” she inspected her nails. “If one of you doesn’t start soon, I might have to take matters into my own hands.”

Said hands bubbled with heat and sent up a scorching haze around them.

“Aye, aye, laugh it up ye numpties,” Declan placed his hands on his hips.

“I want his pretty little mouth,” Stubbs, who had been playing with Jon’s jawline, pressed a single finger to the Archivist’s lips. “From what I hear he talks too much. Best shut ‘im up now.”

He got bit for his troubles. Howling, he yanked his stumpy little fingers away.

“Oh, you just made this ten times more interesting, Archivist. You don’t even know,” he had a glint in his eye that didn’t bode well. Jon might have thought better of it had he thought at all, but he was here now. He clamped his mouth shut.

“I could pull his teeth clean out for you,” Jude offered, charitably.

“Bet we got ourselves a ring gag around here somewheres,” Mustache added. “Could toss it in the fire - get it nice and warm for ya, Archivist.”

Stretch removed his finger from inside Jon and held it over his stomach instead. His casual smile turned dark in an instant. 

“Let me show you why you won’t be doing that again.”

His fingers turned to hot, bubbling wax that dripped onto Jon’s stomach with a burning hiss. 

Jon screamed.

He thrashed as the first drops cooled over blisters, his hips arching up and lifting up from the chair. A few globs missed his stomach, instead landing on his thighs - coming dangerously close to hitting someplace unbearably sensitive.

“See now, Archivist, look what you made us do,” Stubbs tsk’d and roughly grabbed Jon’s jaw. Again. “This hurts you way more than it hurts us. How about you be a good little boy and we might actually make this good for you.”

Jon really didn’t have any proper choices.

“No... I,“ he faltered, but bit out the words. “I’ll be good.”

Stretch laughed, his smile turning sweet again, “oh my, yes. Yes, you will.”

The wax dripping onto him was cooler now, no longer bubbling. It was more stimulating than painful now, definitely. Jon fought not to actually sob as he dribbled it over his aching nipples. He hadn’t cried in many years and wasn’t about to start now.

Between his legs, Declan fiddled with Jon’s ankles. At first, he ignored him.

Then, he felt rough hands unhooking his ankles from his bonds one at a time. He heard metal sliding into place and then clicking. He’d heard that sound before, but where...

Declan was lifting his left leg then, one hand under the knee the other under the calf. Cold contacted with the back of his calf and a strap was locked into place over top. 

In an instant it all came back to him: stirrups. This was a gynaecologist chair. 

By the time the thought fully hit him, he was already strapped in. His legs were forced up and apart so that the whole room had a good view of his traitorously wet cunt.

The others worked together to recline the chair so that Jon’s head was at about groin height. 

Declan admired his handiwork once Jon was in position and stood between his spread legs. His cock was hard and dripping as he pressed the head against Jon’s own dick, content to tease him for now.

Felix began to pet Jon’s hair, far too gentle to be kind, “come on, pretty boy. Open up.”

He would have hyperventilated. He wanted to, even. But he forced himself to relax as much as possible, to tilt his head back just so, and to open his trembling lips. When he was in position, he was treated to the sight of Stubbs opening his trousers and fishing out his short, fat cock for him.

The tattooed man, presumably impatient, unhooked Jon’s uninjured hand and pressed it around his own erect cock. It felt slick under his stiff fingers.

Jon had very little experience with any form of sexual interaction. He didn’t know where to start. There were too many stimuli for him to plan anything, so he decided that he would have to figure it out one at a time. 

He started by stroking Tattoo’s cock. That was simple enough. He just had to squeeze a bit and move his hand.

Then Felix stroked Jon’s jaw as Stubbs teased back his thick foreskin and pressed the leaking tip of his cock to Jon’s lower lip. This was more complicated.

“That’s right,” Felix murmured into Jon’s ear as he stroked his cheek, “ Don’t think too much, eh? Just go with it and you’ll be fine.”

Jon shifted his head to better lap at Stubbs’ cock. His tongue was uncoordinated and he lapped at it like a cat. It was clear he’d never done it before.

With all of that going on, Jon had no chance of processing people talking around him. He didn’t register Jude chiding Declan to hurry up or the men waiting for his attention.

Declan slid his cock further down to press against Jon’s cunt. He took a deep breath through his nose before pressing firmly in. He met instant resistance.

If anything, this excited him further. Using both his hands he grasped the Archivist’s hips and tugged him forward as he thrust, hard enough to force himself deep inside of Jon.

Just as Jon was sucking the tip into his mouth, he was forced open. He convulsed, back arching and mouth hung open. The scream that ripped through him didn’t sound human, especially when it echoed back to him.

Those watching cheered and whistled. Jude said something, but Jon couldn’t hear it over the pain-induced ringing in his ears.

The tattooed man complained to Declan - something about his dick being in danger, but Declan just shuddered with pleasure as he relished the feeling of Jon bearing down around him. 

“S-shove off ye tossers. Did nae expected him ta be a virgin...” As he spoke he began rocking his hips gently, eliciting further sobs from Jon as he tried to scramble away, before pulling almost clean out. He glanced down at the blood and slick covering his cock and gave the Archivist a delighted grin. Jon choked on a sob - so much for not crying today.

Jon found his voice, feeble as it was. 

“T-take it out. Please.” 

He glanced down his own torso at Declan, pleading with his eyes.

Declan just chuckled at the request and, grasping Jon’s hips plenty hard enough to bruise, slammed back in from tip to base. The thrust was forceful enough that the rusty exam chair shrieked in protest and jerked back an inch or two.

So did Jon.

The group teased the Archivist, but he couldn’t hear them. He crossed one arm over his eyes, trying his hardest to hide himself.

“Please… please stop,” he could barely speak, but he repeated this over and over until Tattoo pulled his hand back down onto his prick and Felix angled his mouth back towards Stubbs’ cock.

“Please...”

Stubbs assisted Felix by placing one of his spadelike hands behind Jon’s head and shoving him forward, cock now pressed roughly to his still-pleading lips. 

“Lessee how pretty you beg when ya can’ even talk, huh,” With that he adjusted his grip to once again force Jon’s mouth open. He fed is cock in slowly until he pressed to the back of his tongue. He wasn’t long enough to do much more than that, but he was thick enough to be a proper mouthful.

Jon gagged prettily, saliva sputtering from his mouth as he was held in place. Declan was thrusting constantly so that his body was rocked and forced further onto Stubbs cock each time. Held in place as he was he could feel himself beginning to suffocate a bit. Terror must have shown in his eyes because Stubbs pulled out just enough to let him breath before choking him again.

He didn’t stop moving his left hand along Tattoo’s cock, even if his motion was loose and jerky. No one ever said he had to give a good hand job. He just had to give one.

Felix had taken to petting Jon’s hair, stroking the strands apart only to coil them back together and use the mass of it to angle him better onto the prick in his mouth.

“Lookit you,” he murmured against Jon’s ear, taking a moment to nip at it. “Takin it sooo well, ain’tcha?”

Jon almost wished he’d stop. He didn’t need his ravenous need for praise used against him here and now as he was choked from both ends.

Tattoo pinched the back of his wrist, but it was lost in the rest of the pain.

“Haven’t you given a handjob before,” he complained.

Declan waved a hand at Tattoo as he removed one from Jon’s hip, his own still snapping forward at a punishing pace “if his pretty little cunt is anythin’ ta go by, I d’nae think he has.” 

Declan was holding his hips in place to better angle his thrusts until he was pounding hard into Jon’s front wall, forcing harsh jabs of pleasure up his spine. He let go with one hand to rub a calloused finger along Jon’s straining little prick.

That was the final blow to his resistance. Pleasure surged through him like a current, driving a tingling heat into every last nerve. Something like a hot, heavy stone was building in his lower belly and he was powerless to stop it as it anchored him in place.

Felix sucked a mark onto Jon’s neck and went right on praising him. 

“’S right, luv. Give in to it - lookit what a good time you’re havin’ - bouncing on tha’ cock like a champ. Such a good thing, you are.”

Stubbs continued to thrust into his mouth, not letting him rest or breath properly. The lack of oxygen only seemed to make Jon more engrossed in his own hazy pleasure. 

Tattoo huffed to Declan, “virgins are only good for what you’re doin”

Declan grunted noncommittally.

Jon was a quick learner and, deep down, he was eager to please. He liked to be praised. 

And so, he moved his hand on his own and squeezed the cock lightly. Maybe, he reasoned, it was a bit like milking a cow. He’d never personally milked a cow, but he had seen it done on a school trip once. This cock was much bigger than a cow’s teat, but he tried anyway.

Tattoo moaned and a rush of slick covered his hand. It was, in fact, quite like milking a cow. The man started to rock into the handjob. 

Felix kissed Jon’s cheek lightly and scratched his scalp, “such a quick learner too.”

For better or worse, the praise was devastating to Jon’s self control. He shut his eyes tight as he gagged and drooled around Stubbs.

Declan watched as Jon came apart. He leaned further over him, focusing hard on slamming Jon. His thumb moved in time with his thrusts and he was quickly building up speed as he neared completion. Each move he made, while becoming more erratic by the second, was geared towards absolutely destroying what little was left of Jon’s inhibitions.

Jon was so focused on rubbing and sucking that he was powerless to stop his thighs from clenching or his toes from curling as Declan pounded his sweet spot. His hips met the man’s thrusts unbidden and he was just on the edge of cumming.

Plan well executed, Declan gave Felix a look as he was on the verge of spilling deep inside Jon. He wasn’t sure what magic the newest member of their little cult had, but his words had some sort of power over the Archivist. Or maybe the Archivist was just so starved for affection that a little praise was all that was needed. Poor bloke.

“Ready to show me how you get off?” Felix whispered. “Go on, be a luv for us. Cum.”

Felix’s words flipped a switch in Jon’s head. Next thing he knew, he was shaking apart. 

His muscles clamped down hard as his orgasm hit him like nothing had in his life. He cried out around Stubbs’ cock, gagging as his convulsing forced too much cock down his throat.

Stubbs used the new depth to fuck harder and faster until he pulled out entirely and came over Jon’s face.

Jon made the prettiest face, nose scrunched and eyes shut tight as cum landed in streaks over his eyes, nose, and lips. Some landed on his tongue where his mouth was open. Almost on instinct, he smacked his lips together and tasted it. He didn’t hate it.

Felix whispered reassurances throughout, though Jon certainly couldn’t hear them over the static in his head.

Declan cried out his own orgasm, pumping his seed directly against Jon’s cervix. He used his tight cunt to milk every last drop from his softening shaft before pulling out. 

He moved away to let someone else take over.

Tattoo abandoned Jon’s hand immediately and pressed his eager cock deep into the Archivist’s still-spasming cunt with a lewd groan. His prick was bigger than Declan’s had been and he didn’t bother to start slow. He pounded Jon’s cervix with abandon, dragging the man’s slim hips back to meet every shove.

He barely registered the change in partners as his cunt throbbed all the same.

“Nooo- st-“ he tried to protest, but his hips rocked on their own and even he didn’t believe himself. “Too much- fffuck.”

Felix slid a finger through the cum on his face and slipped it into his mouth, “like th’ taste of that? Such a good little slut.”

Jon greedily sucked the cum from Felix’s fingers, bobbing his head to get all of it. Little mewls escaped his throat as he bucked against Tattoo’s onslaught. He was frantically chasing his climax again. He wanted his mind numb. He didn’t want to think anymore.

The orgasms were not hard to hit now that he’d gotten off once already - Jon easily fell into a steady stream of them. As soon as one finished, another bubbled up in its place.

Off to the side of the group Declan was with Moustache putting down drop cloths on a clear patch of flooring. They were saying something but Jon couldn’t be bothered to hear it.

Stretch groaned, “he’s gotten pretty good at this, hasn’t he?”

“So good,” Felix answered. He grinned as Jon eagerly licked cum from his fingers.

As another orgasm hit he rasped out an aborted scream, quickly devolving into dry, full body coughs. Felix was quick to tuck the rag back into his mouth so that Jon could soothe his throat. No one wanted their little toy to break just yet and the way that Jon sucked and squeezed the cloth was positively lewd.

Jon whined weakly around the cloth as Tattoo spilled deep inside him. As he pulled out, Stretch and Mustache began to unstrap and lift him.

Wiggling in his captors arms, Jon tried to orient himself better, but his brain was suppling completely unhelpful information like:  _ there are at least three more dicks I need in me _ and  _ can I take them all at once? _

All plans for escape were canceled. His squirming only served to show him that his limbs were far too heavy for running. Besides that, his cunt felt  _ hot _ and  _ empty _ .

“He’s got two holes, fink you wanna share?” Moustache was talking to Stretch. “If I go after you, I’m not gonna get a thing outta his cunt.”

“I could do his arse,” Stretch offered. “Seems cruel, though.”

They laid Jon down and pulled his ass into the air. Felix followed and made sure that Jon sucked dry another clothful of water before anyone was allowed to touch him.

As he finished, a slicked finger was pressed into his tight arsehole. He pitched forward, mindlessly trying to escape the intrusion. Felix lifted Jon’s chin and took the rag. Jon followed the cloth with his mouth for a bit before it was used to clean his face. It felt nice. Felix was so good to him. He really liked Felix.

“I could fuck ‘s arse,” Moustache offered. “How’s about you lay down ‘n he rides you ‘n I fuck his arse from behind ‘im, then?”

“Sounds good to me,” Stretch continued to finger him carefully. “Still needs to be stretched. D’you wanna or shall I?”

He pulled his fingers free and then worked two back inside. One hand held Jon in place as he finger fucked him slowly. His body was too tired to protest the insertion of another finger but he wiggled and keened all the same. His filthy little cunt was steadily dripping slick and cum, creating a small pool of it on the cloth below him.

Moustache took a second to watch before speaking. 

“I’ll prep ‘im, fr’all the good it’ll do after you stick that monster of yours in ‘im.” He moved to take over control of the Archivist. “Get comfortable, yea? I’ll bring him to you when ‘s ready.“

Felix grinned when he was done cleaning Jon’s face, “doing so good for me.” He lifted Jon’s front a little so he could kiss him.

Jon’s eyes slipped closed and focused solely on the kiss. He was good at kissing. He liked kissing, even before his mind was wrecked. He darted his tongue out to lick Felix’s bottom lip, inviting him to deepen the kiss.

Moustache took Jon’s distraction as an opportunity to slick up three fingers and line them up with Jon’s arsehole. He waited for a few seconds, picking his moment, before plunging them deep.

Jon’s body accepted the fingers greedily before he had a chance to register the pain. A moment later, his muscles clamped down feebly and the kiss broke so that he could cry out.

Felix stroked his jaw line, trying to calm him down.

“What’cha complainin’ about, slut? Too  _ much _ for ya?” When he said ‘much’ his second knuckles pushed through the resistant pressure of Jon’s hole.

Jon’s moan echoed as his body went limp and his hole gave up on pushing the fingers back out. He choked on a breath that was more like a sob. Felix was fast to kiss it away again, pressing his tongue into Jon’s open mouth.

“Bloody... sure is stretchy this one, sure we can’t keep ‘im tied up in a corner for a while? Be great stress relief,” Moustache only sounded half joking as he thrust his fingers in and out at a leisurely pace, being sure to stretch Jon just enough to not break him but not enough that it wasn’t going to hurt. They still very much wanted it to hurt.

Jon whined sweetly, unable and unwilling to stop his hips from rocking back onto the probing fingers. He could feel something building in his gut again and he wanted it. He kissed Felix back, ravenous and needy.

“Maybe if you hurry up we can,” Stretch teased him, prodding his mate with a foot. “Otherwise we’ll be here the rest of our lives waiting on that arse to be ready.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m workin’ on it,” he pulled his fingers free and went to wash up. “How about you stuff him up while I wash, hm?”

Felix helped Jon onto Stretch and guided his cock up against the Archivist’s dripping cunt. Jon was so turned on now that he pressed himself down onto the cock before realizing how huge it was. As he head breached his cunt, he went suddenly rigid with a shriek.

“Shhh, go on and take it, lovely,” he soothed even as he stopped Jon from wriggling away. “Your pretty little cunt wants it so bad. I know you can feel how wet you are. Just take it.”

Jon shook his head frantically, tears forming only to run down his cheeks. 

“No! No no no no n-“ he looked around to Felix, betrayed, as if the other man should have saved him from his own hubris. 

“T-take it out! I- nnghh!” It felt as if he were being ripped apart from the inside. He was too full. There was no way his body could take anymore, and yet there was still more left and his legs were becoming too strained to support him.

“Poor slut,” Moustache taunted on returning. “Not even half way down! Better hope your cunt can stretch or you’re gonna break.”

“Don’t worry, pretty,” Stretch cooed sweetly to Jon as if he were his pet. “I’ve got you.”

Stretch slipped a finger down to rub Jon’s cock, forcing pleasure into him to offset the pain. He wrenched his prick back and forth, spreading the slick around. Jon was vaguely aware that this man was, despite everything else, well-versed in sex.

Felix took his left hand and gently stroked the knuckles, but it did nothing to help Jon’s sobbing and squirming. Just when it felt like he had bottomed out, the last little bit sunk in. Jon was there enough to realize that it was because of having his cock stroked.

He wondered if he could make this easier on himself. If he could... The Archivist gave a tiny, pained whimper as he began to angle himself and roll his hips, searching for his own g-spot. 

If he could just- there!

Jon came with a startled yelp. His muscles shivered, more slick and cum seeping from around Stretch’s cock. Jon slid further down, maybe too quickly, but down nonetheless. The mass of Stretch’s cock made a modest bulge against his belly.

Declan whistled from where he sat, “lookit that, wouldja? Kin see yer cock through his belly..”

Jon’s orgasm had encouraged Stretch, so he rocked his hips hard.

“S more like it,” he muttered.

Moustache watched for a few seconds, clearly enjoying the view. Finally, he moved behind Jon, one hand settling on his hip to steady himself as he also mounted Stretch’s legs. His cock was dripping and Jon’s ass was so well-lubed that he didn’t bother adding to the mess.

His first attempt to penetrate Jon’s ass ended with his cock slipping down between Jon’s leg and rubbing against the exposed bit of Stretch’s cock. Which felt good, but was not what he was aiming for. They both groaned softly. Then, Stretch eyed him with a smirk.

“Trouble, mate?”

“Might be,” he groused. “Fuck it...”

He gave up on easing it in and, instead, forced the tip into Jon.

Jon screamed. His voice hitched to a higher than he’d thought possible as his spine locked up. If anything, that made Moustache more determined to drive his cock further. Jon’s poor body could barely hold both men at once and it showed in the way his belly jutted out to accommodate Stretch’s massive cock. If before it was a slight bulge, now it was prominent.

“Fffuck,” Stretch made it clear he was enjoying Jon’s painfully tight cunt.

“Yer too damned tight, Archivist,” Moustache groaned as he bottomed out.“Gonna have ta break ya ta get back outta ya again.”

He wasn’t going to last long, but he was going to enjoy himself. He was fucking slowly into the Archivist, letting the tight heat pull on him with every drag.

“Y’know, Rhys. You gotta nice cock, feels real good,” he was half joking. Half not.

Jon whimpered pathetically, burying his face into Stretch’s chest as he sniffled and tried not to choke on his pain. He still made note of the name.

Rhys kept a finger firmly pressed on Jon’s stiff little cock as he rocked in time with his mate.

“You don’t feel half bad yourself, Liam,” he leaned over Jon’s shoulder and dragged the mustached man, apparently named Liam, into a rough kiss.

Jon shouldn’t be so mad that they had names, but he was.

Liam seemed a bit shocked, but he kissed back willingly enough. Being surprised now and again by a reckless mate was just part of hanging with a Desolation cult, really. The new angle caused him to lean more heavily on the Archivist and he decided to go with it, grinding out shallow thrusts right against Rhys’ cock. 

Jon was mewling and sobbing now as the two worked their cocks deeper than he’d ever thought possible. He was sure he was going to break and every other word he managed was ‘stop’ or ‘please’ or ‘no’.

The heat and pleasure only offset the overwhelm and pain by a small margin and Jon was feeling properly wrecked more than fucked out now.

“Ff- fuck damnit” Liam broke the kiss off to bury his face in the crook of Jon’s neck, biting down hard enough to draw blood. His hips snapped forward roughly as the pressure became too much.

Jon’s sobs turned to an endless stream of screams and actively scratching at anything he could reach to try and escape. It was too much, too painful, and too good as well. He was forced over the edge again. Hot liquid spilled from between his legs and black spots appeared at the corner of his vision. Drool and tears dripped onto Rhys where Jon had laid his head, forming a slick pool. Rhys just laughed and pinched the Archivists cock, rolling it between two fingers.

Liam pulled free of Jon after a moment and faded back into the group. Declan took his place, jamming his smaller prick straight in and going hard. Jon’s world became impossible to process then. He knew he was still conscious and arguably in one piece, but all he could do was hold on.

“If nobody’s going to use his mouth...,“ somebody said as they grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked him up by it. His answer was a choked sob. A cock was pressed past his already parted lips, sliding back and into his throat. Poor Jon was now having to gasp and slurp for air around a huge dick. He was already breathless and now he was seeing technicolor spots and wondering when he could pass out.

“A little warning, Troy,” Rhys complained. He had to slip his fingers off of Jon’s throbbing cock due to the awkward positioning. Instead, he pinched and smacked Troy’s arse. A glance up revealed Troy to be the tattooed man.

“Where’s the fun in that,” as he asked, he paused in fucking Jon’s face to let him breath. “How about you use that pretty mouth of yours properly, little cumslut?”

Declan helped with the reach around, using one hand to lightly pet Jon’s bruised cock. Jon whined, but lost himself to sucking cock. The oral fixation took the edge off and he cherished that, rubbing his tongue against the shaft and hollowing his cheeks. Jon looked up through his lashes at the man, eyes wet with tears and pupils blown wide.

A deep moan quaked through him, vibrating through Troy’s leaking cock as well.

Rhys licked his own finger and then poked it up between Troy’s legs - “none at all, I s’pose”

Troy used the hand not holding Jon by the hair to pet his face “that’s a good boy. You love being used d- Mmhn!” His words were cut off by a startled sound as Rhys’ finger slid easily into him. He would likely never admit it, but he had an affinity for and quite the collection of handmade glass butt plugs.

Declan laughed and continued his steady thrusts, “is tha’ what we’re doin’ now?”

Rhys smirked, “man puts his arse in my face, I finger him.”

He kept his hips still as he focused on fingering Troy’s suspiciously lax hole. Declan’s rocking was more than enough to keep Jon moaning and gasping around the cock filling his mouth. Jon was way too close to passing out now to even register what was going on.

“You keep it up, and I’m gonna sit on your fucking face” he rocked his hips so he was simultaneously thrusting into Jon’s mouth and fucking himself back on Rhys’ fingers.

“Do it, coward,” he pulled back and then pressed two finger in and crooked them down hard on his sweet spot.

“Just you- aahmm- fucking wait until I’m done with this-this little whore’s mouth,” He panted. 

His arse tensed and relaxed around the fingers, he was close but not quite there yet. Rhys fingerfucked with the best of them, driving his digits in against the prostate and then easing off to keep things going. If they were careful, they could keep this going for a while now.

“Lookit what yuh’ve done now, ya pretty little slut,” Declan leaned in to whisper in Jon’s ear. “Turned yer punishment inta a proper orgy” he nipped lightly as he sped up his fingers over Jon’s sensitive prick.

Jon cried out, muffled around the cock he was dutifully bobbing on as this ripped another orgasm straight through him. He didn’t really understand why he was being punished, but he didn’t really understand a lot right now. He didn’t really need to, either.

Declan buried himself deep as he could to ride out Jon’s orgasm and spill his load with a shuddering happy sigh. 

“Good- good boy,” he kissed Jon’s neck before slipping out and flopping to the side to watch the rest of the proceedings from the floor.

Off to the other side, Stubbs sat near Felix and nudged him, “you joining in, lad?”

Felix shrugged, “suppose so.” 

He scooted in behind Jon and pressed up against him, letting the Archivist feel his stiff cock.

“Hullo, pretty,” he murmured, nipping Jon’s ear. “Wan’ more?”

He reached around to pet Jon’s nipples as he asked, making the question truly unfair.

Jon shifted his hips back just a bit, gurgling around Troy’s cock as he relented. He felt like putty and was certain that his insides were going to be ruined forever, so why not take another. At least Felix was nice. He hoped Felix would be nice inside of him.

He was nice inside. Jon couldn’t tell if he was small or if his arse was stretched, but he took him in nonetheless. He whispered in his ear about how good he was and Jon wanted to cry again.

Troy reached the hand not holding onto Jon’s head back to touch Rhys’ wrist. He dragged it closer, plunging his fingers deeper still.

“Whore,” Rhys teased. Troy elected not to respond.

Rhys jammed a third finger into Troy, who hummed appreciatively and went back to fucking Jon’s throat. 

To his credit, Jon only gagged a little. He was a good boy, after all. He wiggled his hips in slowish circles while groaning with how it felt like he was stirring his own insides. Felix rocked up into him in response, forcing another orgasm through his tired body.

Rhys jabbed Troy’s prostate rapid fire, actively trying to get him to cum down Jon’s throat now. Troy folded easily to the onslaught and slammed his hips forward and held Jon down on his cock. He forced Jon to stay until his balls were empty and his knees were giving out on him.

Rhys sat up a bit and caught Troy around the waist after he came. Pulling his fingers free, he pressed his tongue immediately to his arsehole. Troy’s eyes rolled back a bit as he eased his way down to a mock sitting position over Rhys’ face. 

He placed his hands on the other man’s frankly impressive abs and leaned forward to capture Jon’s lips in a bruising kiss. The taste of his and others cum on Jon’s tongue was intoxicating. Jon was still gasping and coughing, which made for a sloppy experience. Everything else was sloppy, though, so why not this too?

Rhys licked into him like he wanted to bury his tongue deep inside and flick his prostate. He held the man fast against his face and moaned into his body.

Felix was draped over Jon, kissing his neck and stroking his cock gently.

“So good... so tight and slick for me. ‘S right, gimme another one, luv. Cum one more time on my cock, eh?”

Jon cried into Troy’s mouth. Everything was too much. He simply couldn’t, there was no possible way. He grasped at Felix’s wrist and shook his head again, dislodging from the kiss. 

“I c-can’t! T-too much. It hurts. Please,“ he pleaded, with no clear idea what he wanted. His vision was swirling and he could feel himself drifting off.

Felix was about to stop when Rhys forced Jon up and off his huge cock, leaving him gaping. Warm wax splattered over Jon’s stomach and hard, sensitive prick in a flash of white hot pain. He was vaguely aware that that was Rhys’ cum and that Felix was now cumming as well.

He didn’t have it in him to scream as his body finally shut down.

———

Jon was out for a long time. When he woke, he was in a white room with the last rays of daylight pouring in through thin curtains. The bed he lay in was soft enough, but his burns kept him from comfort.

He suddenly realized that Elias was there, sat in a ragged armchair beside the bed.

Jon opened his mouth to speak, but found it to be dry and rather difficult. He managed a meager “ah” before descending into a painful coughing fit. His body ached with every cough. Elias set his work aside and Jon was very shortly being given a cup of tepid water to help. 

“Slowly, Jon. Breath - don’t talk. You’ve been through quite a lot I’m afraid.”

His hands were cold and gentle where he tilted Jon’s chin and helped him to drink. As he retreated and set the water aside, he brushed his forehead with the backs of his fingers.

Jon gladly accepted the water drinking it down. His throat still stuck but it was a start. He recoiled from the gentle touch. He didn’t want to be touched.

“At least you’re fevers gone...”

“How long have I been out?”

“Just under a day. You were brought in around midnight and it’s now sundown.”

“Who... how did I get here?” He glanced around as if the culprit was in the room. “What’s- did the doctors say anything?” 

Jon went to swing himself over the edge of the bed, more than a little unsteady, not caring or realising that he was still attached to a drip. Elias put two firm hands on his shoulders and fixed him with a hard look.

“Jon, lie back down. You are injured and in no fit state to stand. Not to mention, you’ve an IV in.”

Once he made sure Jon wasn’t going to surge up, he continued, “now, you are here as a John Doe. I made certain to remove your name so that the police don’t bother you here, so rest.”

“Now, as to what happened to you,” he looked pained to have to deliver the news.

“You were abducted and raped - multiple times it would seem. You’ve both mild and severe burn wounds, you have internal micro abrasions, and the hospital has performed contraceptive measures for you already.”

He could certainly feel that now that his body was awake and trying to fight off whatever painkillers were in him. 

“The Lightless Flame,” he clarified “Jude Perry and her new little cult family- wait!” He turned to face Elias so fast that his eyes began to swim and he had to lay back to stop the room from spinning. “How did you know I was here?!”

Elias tilted his head, like he was both pitying and judging Jon for his suspicion.

“An anonymous tip. Rosie took it around noon and I’ve been here since just past three. Why?”

“Felix...” he supposed aloud. Unlikely, but just maybe- no. That was most definitely the trauma talking. “When can I leave?”

“Not yet, certainly. Would you like me to contact Georgina Barker for you? She is your emergency contact and is probably more suitable for guiding you through these sorts of decisions, yes?”

“No. I’d like to keep her out of this for as long as possible,” he looked a bit cagey. “Get me out of here Elias.” 

There was an underlying layer of compulsion in his voice, but it was clearly not intentional.

Elias smiled in a way that meant he had no intention of doing that.

“Lie down, Jon. Rest for a little while and we’ll get you out of here as soon as we can.”

He reached for the paperwork on the bedside table, “if you’re restless, maybe some light reading material would help?”

Elias’ voice had real power in it.

“Yeah, ok.” Something in him was eager to fold to the dominant pressure. He held out his hand that was not attached to the IV drip. Elias gave him a few stacks of statements.

“I’ll be going, then.”

His eyes were scanning the papers before him. 

“Hmm, grab me a bottle of water before you do,” he asked absently.

He smiled more genuinely, not that Jon saw, and gathered his things.

“I’ll send it in with a nurse.”

**Author's Note:**

> About Us: We are a queer couple and we write fucked up shit sometimes. 
> 
> We appreciate you taking the time to read our nonsense. Please leave us a comment and let us know what you think. <3


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